SKETCH

Murrell and Sturgeon: 'Mr Cellophane' becomes the star of the show

Peter Murrell, centre, arrives in court. <i>(Image: Jane Barlow/PA)</i>
Peter Murrell, centre, arrives in court. (Image: Jane Barlow/PA)
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Peter Murrell arrived punctually for sentencing. If anything, the prisoner transport was a touch early. The shutters had yet to go up at the High Court in Edinburgh, and in the 20-second delay, photographers swarmed around the van taking pictures. Obliging to the end, that’s Peter. 

Or so those who encountered him would tell you. Peter would help anybody. He helped himself to party funds as well. But why?

That’s the £400,000 question. We know a lot about the “how” of Peter Murrell’s crime. As the court heard, the manner of embezzlement was “not particularly sophisticated”. What is missing is the why.

Why did this middle-aged executive steal from the party to which he had seemingly dedicated his life? 

Much of what we do know about Murrell is thunderingly banal. Born in Edinburgh 1964, grew up in the Corstorphine area, Craigmount High School and the University of Glasgow, worked for Alex Salmond and climbed the party ranks. 


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A bureaucrat, say those who encountered him, a fixer. The phrase that comes up most often is “a background guy”. Chubby and mole-like, Murrell was no one’s idea of box office. That was the wife’s job. And didn’t she do it well? 

On the rare occasions when he accompanied her on official duties - mostly the good trips to London - he would emerge blinking into the sunlight, looking proud to have Nicola on his arm. Her thoughts remain a mystery, another one to add to the pile.

As Lord Young said in sentencing, the social work report sought to explore the reasons for Murrell’s offending. 

“You identified possible factors arising from your background, working life and personal circumstances,” said Lord Young. “But in truth, it is very difficult to get a clear picture for what drove your actions. Many of the high-value items acquired by you were not even used.”

That last sentence hung in the air, a pointer to the pathetic nature of Murrell’s wrongdoing. 

Detectives have said he coveted a lifestyle he could not afford. He would hardly be the first person to be guilty of that. Yet most people don’t steal. He did, knowing that if he was caught, it would not only wreck his life but his wife’s too.

One could see his actions as a desperate cry for attention, a grotesque plea for acknowledgement of all he had done for the party, for his wife. Watching him lurking in the wings during her “rock star” appearances around Scotland, he brought to mind a character in the musical Chicago. Amos, the mild-mannered husband of starlet Roxie Hart, felt so invisible he called himself Mr Cellophane. “‘Cause you can look right through me, walk right by me, and never know I’m there.” Well, she knows now.

The cameras trained their lenses on the door through which Murrell would appear. Door shots have been having a moment this week. Anyone expecting him to stagger in under the weight of shame would have been disappointed. 

He looked for all the world like someone who had set out for the local garden centre and unexpectedly found himself in a courtroom.  It was surely all a mistake.  How could buying expensive pens and a motorhome with other people’s money lead to this?

Murrell will have to live with the consequences of his actions, and he is not alone in that. His conviction binds him to Nicola Sturgeon forever. Whenever she is mentioned, he will be mentioned; wherever she goes, he will be her shadow. Some may consider that grossly unfair. Others will not.

Before Mr Cellophane left the dock, the handcuffs were locked once more. If anyone was there to support him, family or friends, they kept it quiet. He had been ostracised by “friends and colleagues”, the court heard, and become a figure of public ridicule. 

As for how he will cope with prison, he might take comfort from jailed Cabinet minister Jonathan Aitken, who once said: “On the whole, a level-headed, sensible guy can get through prison fairly easily.” 

As Aitken might have added, and what Murrell and his former wife are now realising, it’s the rest of one’s life that’s the toughest nut to crack. 

Sentencing over, he was back in the van for more snatched pictures - photos that will go around the world. Peter Murrell, star of the show at last. 

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